GlitterGlitter
by The Cosmic Penguin
Summary: Two puffballs gaze outside at their kin.
1. Kirby

My reasons for writing this should be pretty self-explanatory; I spent two-and-a-half hours sitting outside writing this until my fingers were so numb I had to come inside as my inspirational consequence. Hope you enjoy it.~

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><p>Kirby stood outside his house and looked up at the stars.<p>

The stars were so beautiful tonight. There were many more of them than there usually were; so many that he could see. Some were different colors—red, yellow, sparkly-bluish—

…

…

What were those stars? Were they planets? Somebody's home, far away? Popstar was supposed to be the brightest star in the universe—well, at least, his galaxy. It was a beacon of light for all those who felt lost. It was the signal light for those who needed a refuge. Kirby was proud to fight for it. Without his home, he would be lost. He would have no home. His birth planet was destroyed…he wondered what it looked like as a star. His gaze was brought back to the night sky, the stars glittering like jewels on a velvety surface. The hotter the star, the brighter it would burn…Kirby didn't want his planet to look reddish or yellowish because any star got old and cooled eventually. But he didn't want it to burn and spark like Popstar…then it would feel like Popstar, not his lost home planet. There weren't many green or purple stars; he wasn't sure he liked those colors for a star's color anyway. What color would he pick…?

Blue! His eyes flashed, and the stars inside them sparked. He wanted it to be blue, like his eye color and soul color. Blue was a happy color. Blue was the sky's color. Blue was the color of water, something that could take on any form. Kirby liked blue for all of those reasons and then some, so he hoped that his planet had been bluish with a spark of white in it as well. That would be a nice color for his planet. Now where would it be in this great sky?

Kirby's eyes searched it critically. Upon looking, he could find no place it would fit particularly well—there were lots of open, crowded, or just-right spaces in this night sky. It pained him to know that he wasn't even looking at the big picture—this was a mere fraction of the night sky; what he could see now would change every month and every season. It would change when he looked at it from another place, as well. When he was away from his home on an adventure, wouldn't he want to be able to look up at his planet, and be reminded that he could return home soon? But when he was at home, hadn't he wanted to look up and see where his planet was, and imagine what it was like?

Kirby looked down for a brief moment to ponder that. Which would be better for him? He loved to wander, but he couldn't deny that being home was wonderfully soothing to him. He didn't wander too far unless it was on adventures, either. Which would be better—to see your comfort only to keep you going on adventures, or to be able to look outside your house every night and know that you could see it there in your darkest hour?

Perhaps it was best left undecided; perhaps his home star still existed somewhere. Kirby didn't want to imagine it as something it was not. Instead, he turned his focus back to the sky. Stars littered the sky like shells on a beach, in no particular arrangement, but imperfectly perfect nevertheless. The night was cloudless, the breeze was cool, refreshing, and occasional, and the crickets were the only background noise. Nothing was out…he had the night to himself to look up at the stars.

He was called a star, you know. It wasn't just because of the stars that blinked in his eyes occasionally. Was it because he was partially a black hole—no, a black hole was a collapsed star, and he didn't want to think of his life as someone else's death. It was because his heart, his very spirit, was shaped like a star. The cool breeze that wove around his body and tickled his cheeks made the star inside him spark a little more, and a small smile crossed his lips. The night was perfect. If he could live like this for the rest of his life, he didn't think he would ever have the time to be sad because he would be too busy thinking about happy things like he was tonight.

If there was no darkness in the world…no evil…he would be a lot happier, right? He wouldn't have to fight and risk his life defending something that should not have been attacked in the first place. Light always pierces through the darkness, correct?

But no. Just because things went wrong…just because there was darkness in the world…it didn't mean that it had no place. Hardships improved people's lives and strengths. It turned people into _better_ people. Kirby was willing to work to become a better person, to keep improving and helping people when no-one else would. Besides, nothing was promised to be easy. In the end, each creature decides their own fate.

Kirby stared back up at the stars. There were so few of them compared to the dark sky that represented outer space…but if there were only stars filling the sky, they wouldn't seem as special as they did now. With darkness, the stars shone twice as bright. If there were millions and billions of stars, they would drown out each other's light. Kirby smiled at the sky, hoping that the stars could see him doing so before he back to his bed to sleep.

In the darkness, the stars shone twice as bright. Each one was unique; each one had its own color; each one sparked at different times, but they all twinkled at night in an innocent manner. They were so close, but Kirby knew they were so far. What were the stars like, if each one truly did have its own special personality?

The pink puffball shivered and wrapped his paws around him. The stars were pretty, but perhaps he should have brought his star _blanket_ out here with him…


	2. Meta Knight

The stars looked beautiful tonight.

Well, when _didn't_ the stars look beautiful?

No time, really—the stars remained the same, always shining true even when other things went wrong. The stars were a source of comfort to him—seeing the stars sparkling up there amongst each other reminded him that he was not alone. If there was one thing that he secretly dreaded, it was being alone.

Oh, he could tolerate it for a while, longer than most people could. But when he really got to looking at himself and realizing that he'd probably never fit in, he started to question what his purpose really was. He was a decent fighter, yes, and he was with the good guys in their battle against attackers, but surely there were plenty of people like that? Surely there were many more like that, if only they could find them? If that was the case—which he was sure it was—then he was still nothing special. He could always brush off his feelings about heroism and such, of course, but there was one thing that he could not flee from, no matter where he traveled and how quickly he got there—

Himself.

That was one of the reason he liked to stare at the stars. He was a star, as well—but there were only a few like him, all of them Kirby or his Mirror copies. To him, that was like staring into a sky with only two stars. Those stars would get lonely after a while. Surely there was something that would give him consolation, to prove to him that he was not by himself? All alone, with only a single person to talk to in life about how they were alone?

The stars helped. If he was a star, and Kirby was a star, some of the stars in the sky had to be linked to someone like them. Somebody who wouldn't let them be all alone, even if there was nothing they could say or do about it. Somehow, there had to be somebody who would care about them. Even though it was childish to think such a thing, he still believed it—after all, it wasn't like the stars would tease him for it. If they were really real, and they cared about him—

It would be best for him not to believe something like that. Surely he would just be let down. But he couldn't help it. You can only be completely alone for so long before you begin to want some comfort—someone to tell you that you aren't the odd one out, that you aren't alone, that somewhere, somebody wants you, and they wanted you for who you were. He couldn't remember ever meeting someone like that—he didn't socialize with many people at all, for fear that they would reject him for who he was. The stars would stay here, and they wouldn't care whether or not he liked programming or candy or snowy places. The stars accepted him.

The stars…they were so pretty. They sparked and glowed at different times, and littered the air like snowflakes on a bare ground. Where did shooting stars go? Did they eventually stop, or did they crash into another star and destroy it? He shivered; he was glad that he was not a literal star—he didn't like the idea of dying that way. Would it make a stronger, more beautiful star though? Would something better come out of the death of the two stars? Even if it did, he still didn't like the idea of dying from one of his kin.

But he had no kin, remember? They were all gone; all killed; none left. The stars were the only family he could always rely on to have. There was never any physical contact in the deal, but—

He reached out a paw, just to see if he was dreaming and he could touch the stars. He was lying on his back, so he didn't figure he'd have much luck, but he reached his paw toward the sky, straining his short arm to try and touch the objects he wanted so badly to feel. No such luck. He was so close, but so far. He pointed the end of his paw to a star and pressed it right against the flashing light. There. Now it looked like he was touching it. He closed his eyes and hummed softly; the breeze stirring up his wings and whisking around his feet. The cool sensation across his cheeks complimented the night air; it was cold in space but his species' gravity field protected them from such dangers for certain times. There were a few other things about his species' powers that he knew, and many that he didn't. Perhaps he could get his answers from the stars.

He opened his eyes and searched the sky again for where he had last remembered seeing their home planet. It was bluish-white, if he recalled correctly, and it had been in a somewhat empty area of space with a few stars scattered around it as if to guard it. It no longer had its magical sparkle, but it was there regardless, so he didn't mind. It wasn't like there was anybody there to talk to him anyway, though…

But it didn't matter. He had the stars in this sky to comfort him when he was down, and to brighten his day up when he was tired. Seeing the tiny sparkles in the sky…it made him feel happier. Like nothing could go wrong in the world. Splattered across the night sky like little crystals scattered across a black background, with wisps of fog occasionally breezing across the corner of the pictured area. The deck above the smells of the ocean carried only pure air to him; air that smelled of the stars. How he wished he could touch them, if only for a moment—

"Sir Meta Knight?"

Meta Knight rotated himself upright and quickly pulled his mask over his face. It was freezing cold, and he shivered slightly as he realized his wings, feet, and paws were just as cold. He squirmed uncomfortably as Sailor Dee walked over to him. "Sir Meta Knight, are you okay?"

He nodded, albeit slightly. He was starting to get really cold, and he couldn't keep his body from shivering. The temperature was eating into him, even though he loved snow and ice. Sailor Dee wrapped his blanket over the puffball's shoulder. "Come on, Sir Meta Knight…I don't want you to get sick out here; I know you're competent but I think you should come out tomorrow night when you have a blanket and you're all nice and warm…"

The blue puffball got up, feet unstable from the cold, and leaned against Sailor Dee as he walked back into the little base they'd set up outside the Halberd's launch pad. It would take a while to get down to it, especially from the top of this cliff, but he was sure he'd make it down—especially with Sailor Dee helping him. The amount of care the little guy showed him was really—

Well, maybe he wasn't completely uncared about and alone, after all. Thank the stars for that...literally. He looked back up at them and grinned softly at them.

Looks like the stars really _did_ care about him, after all.

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><p>Just a little stylistic technique I'd like to point out that nobody will notice unless I do-I avoided using the word 'glitter' in any form throughout the fic. It just felt like it would subtract from some special magic if I spoke it when it was supposed to be unspoken. And yes, I did both puffballs. Why? Because I wanted to.<p>

I hope you enjoyed the read, and that it might have prompted you to look outside yourself (don't know what kind of results you'll get, though...).


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